The Uruk-Hai Wannabe
by Lily Lindsey-Aubery
Summary: Rather self-explanatory title. A little Orc always dreamed of being an Uruk-Hai. Will his dream ever be fulfilled? A look from the point of view of Orcs and other (perhaps) misunderstood characters from LOTR. Rated for black speech (:P) and being sympathetic towards bad guys. Oh, and, um, please review?
1. Introductions: Oobilong, Wormtongue

Oobilong was an Orc. And at the moment, a very unhappy Orc. He was unhappy because he wasn't an Uruk-Hai.

Uruk-Hai were strong. They were brave. They made everyone fear them. They even got special face paint. All Orcs respected and envied Uruks, but Uruk-Hai were even better. They bore the hand of Saruman.

It was rather a fad at the moment to have a white hand on your face. Several of the Snagae had been foolish enough to put one on themselves, but that didn't sit well with Saruman's Orcs. They liked to boss, and they liked to beat up little Orcs who tried to be like them.

Oobilong hadn't painted a hand on his face. He knew he would be beaten up. But he did want to be an Uruk-Hai. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything before.

'One day,' he thought, 'I'll go to Isengard. One day the great Wizard will make me into an Uruk-Hai, too.'

His chance to go to Isengard came sooner than he expected.

'Oobilong!' growled a large Uruk to him one day, 'Pack your bag. We're going to Orthanc.'

Oobilong had learned not to ask questions, so he obeyed without a word, and before night fell a small band of Orcs started West towards Isengard. They had heavy packs full of something shiny, but none of them knew what it was.

'Whatever happens,' yelled the great fat Uruk who was leading them, 'march fast! There's said to be stinkin' Elves wandering about, and we don't want to run into any of those.'

No, Oobilong didn't. Elves were nasty and mean. They slapped and beat you. They questioned you about things you didn't know. They cut off your head when you didn't answer them. They had long hair that flew everywhere and confused you. There was nothing Oobilong hated more than Elves. So he marched fast.

On and on they went, ever towards the great Isengard, where stood the tower Orthanc. It rose up tall, piercing the sky like a needle. And atop it at this moment, while the little Orcs marched closer and closer, sat Saruman the White.

He liked it on top of his tower. A nice cool wind blew there, but the sun warmed it enough so that it was usually the perfect temperature. Unfortunately the top of Orthanc at this time was not so nice a place to sit and muse, for he had a visitor. A very unwelcome visitor.

It was Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey; the old wizened Wizard who could not escape Saruman himself, much less deliver his companions from Saruman's white hands. Slowly Sarumand's Uruk-Hai would capture and kill all left in Middle Earth who were not loyal to Sauron. Slowly Saruman would become greater than Sauron himself; and finally in an epic battle between wrong and wronger, Sauron would be defeated and the not-so-dark side would prevail.

Saruman looked forward to that glorious day, but in the mean time he could not get distracted. He was busy at the moment taunting Gandalf and trying to turn him evil. Not that Gandalf was so much use to him, but a Wizard is a Wizard, and better to have an extra one on your side than not.

But Saruman was rudely interrupted in his taunting, for Grima Wormtongue ascended the tower* and asked for an audience.

'Lord Sauron says he is sending the Mithril,' said Grima sourly. No more sourly than usual; that's just how he talked. Always sourly. 'He says it should arrive in a day or two, along with some Snaga and an Uruk or two for you to keep for your own purposes.'

'What use are Snaga, or even Uruks to me now that I have my dreaded Uruk-Hai?' asked Saruman. 'One of them is better than ten Snagae.'

'I had thought you might want them for further experimentation,' said Grima. 'But whether useful or no, they are coming. It means that we need somewhere to put them.'

'There is always room,' said Saruman shortly. 'Always room in the forges, in the breeding factories, in the forest if nowhere else. Have them cut down the trees to keep them busy. We need more wood anyway. Oh, and Wormtongue,' he added, turning away to descend his tower, 'send one or two Snagae in for me when they arrive. I'd like to see what effect terentheria colotus has upon their mental faculties.'

'Yes, master,' said Grima. He hated to be called 'Wormtongue,' but he never dared say so. Often he felt so misunderstood by all around him. There was Eowyn… yes, Eowyn, fair niece of the king of Rohan. It was strange to think one so fair could reject and hate so much; but she did. She would have nothing to do with him. Then there was Eomer, her brother, who despised him above all living creatures that walked the earth. Even his best friend, Saruman the Wise, mistreated him sometimes. He could bear it; he could bear it for their friendship's sake. But if Saruman himself ever cast him out, if Saruman ever rejected him, he was sure he would die of grief.

He descended the tower after the Wizard, vaguely wondering what 'terentheria colotus' was.

Several days later, just as Sauron had said, the group of Orcs, sadly diminished from the amount that had set out from Mordor, entered Orthanc. Of the twenty that had started the journey, only six remained. Yes, the life of an Orc is hard.

* * *

*Read 'The Escalator of Orthanc' by OneSizeFitsAll for a detailed description of Saruman's means of ascending his tower.


	2. Discard

So few had made it. This was because the Elves, the dreaded Elves had attacked them as they attempted to pass by Helm's Deep. They had killed many of the Orcs. The head Uruk, whose name, by the way, was Bragmosh, wondered what the Elves had been doing so far from their homes. Perhaps they prepared for war. But it was none of his business; he let Saruman and Lord Sauron worry about that.

Oobilong had survived. It was a miracle he did, for he was small and rather weak, and would have been likely to have died first. But he was also quick-witted, and had hidden when the first arrow flew through the air. Then there was the long, hard run to catch up with his remaining companions once the Elves had left. But he finally did it, and came up panting beside them just as they were about to enter Isengard.

Oobilong looked up at the tall tower of Orthanc. He could hardly believe he had made it. This is where he had a chance to change; a chance to become more than a snaga; a chance to be a great big Uruk-Hai! Oobilong trembled with hope. If he could only see Saruman, the great Wizard for one moment, and explain his longing to be an Uruk-Hai, he was sure the Wizard would grant him his wish. He strained his neck to get a glimpse of the top of the tower. Was Saruman up there?

'Move along, Oobilong,' said Bragmosh, pushing him roughly forward toward a large Uruk-Hai who held a pen and notepad.

'How many?' the Uruk-Hai asked.

'Six,' said Bragmosh.

'The goods?'

'Here.' Brogmosh and the other Orcs lowered their heavy packs to the ground.

'According to my notes, here, there should be twenty-three Mithril bricks.' He bent down to examine the packs.

'Step away, Gigo, and let me see.' A small man with long black hair stepped forward. Oobilong rightly assumed that it was Wormtongue, Saruman's right-hand man. Oobilong looked at him curiously. He had never seen a human before, and he wondered if all of them looked like that. Really, he didn't look much different from an Orc.

'Anyway,' thought Oobilong to himself, 'he doesn't have a white hand on his face, either.' After that, he didn't feel quite so inferior.

Grima looked at the Orcs thoughtfully. Which ones would work best for Saruman's purposes? The big one would be useful in the forges. All the rest were so small…

'You, you, and you,' he said, pointing to Oobilong and two other Snagae, 'come with me. Gigo, take the rest and put them where you need more Orcs working.'

Oobilong could hardly breathe in his excitement as he followed Grima Wormtongue up the cold black steps of Orthanc. He would actually see the inside! He would be in the great tower itself! Oobilong barely suppressed a squeal of ecstasy.

The three little Orcs were lead into a large round room with doors on all sides. In the middle of the room stood a black marbled pedestal, and next to the pedestal sat Saruman the White. Oobilong was suddenly very shy.

'My master,' said Grima, 'here are the Mordorian Orcs.' Then he left. Oobilong realized that he would have preferred Grima to stay. The Wizard looked so dark and foreboding that the little Orc was really rather frightened.

'Step this way,' said Saruman. He had a strange, deep voice. The Orcs obeyed him.

'Drink these,' he said, handing each a glass of something. One glass had a thick red liquid in it; another had something pale blue. Oobilong's was a slightly translucent green, and rather goopy. It looked suspiciously like something made of vegetation. Oobilong was an Orc. A carnivore. He didn't want any nasty plant matter. He was about to protest, but one look from Saruman and he stayed silent. And drank it.

Nothing happened. Except that Oobilong coughed because the liquid tasted so bad. He had been hoping that it would at least turn him into an instant Uruk-Hai or something. He was quite disappointed.

Saruman didn't seem surprised that nothing happened. He stood up. 'Follow me,' he said, and led them to a small room on the second level of his tower. On the door there was a sign that said 'Experiment Observation'. 'Stay here,' he ordered, before leaving.

Oobilong sat down on the floor.

He sat there for a long time.

Orcs are used to being told what to do (at least the little ones). When there's no one to order them about they are usually at a loss as to what they should be spending their time on. Of course, Oobilong had dreamed of retiring. He had imagined sitting around a fire with his friends (he didn't have any, but thought perhaps someday he would), eating pizza and singing songs. And there would be piles of sea shells all around. Oobilong loved sea shells.

But of course he couldn't do that here. There were no pizzas, no friends, no fire, and no sea shells. He could have made friends with the other two Orcs, but it was a habit that he had acquired to not speak to other Orcs unless he had to. He had once made a friend. The next day the friend died from an Elven arrow. He was hoping that after retiring these dangers would be gone.

So Oobilong and the other Orcs sat there a good long while. Perhaps a few weeks. About every other day Saruman would come in and examine them, probably to see what changes had taken place in them. One Orc had grown visibly into a hulking Uruk. The other had shrunk even smaller than Oobilong. Oobilong hadn't changed at all.

The first one to go was the one that had grown. One day in the door came Wormtongue and led the Orc out to the forest of Fangorn, to help cut down the trees. The other Orc went next. He was taken up to the top of the tower. Oobilong didn't know why, but he guessed that it was for further experimentation. Then Grima came for him.

Oobilong rode with Grima down the escalator* (which he thought quite fun), and arrived at the bottom where Saruman was busy talking to his palantir.

'Experiment number 75839,' announced Wormtongue.

'Oh, the flop.' Saruman didn't turn from the black orb he was gazing into. 'Discard.'

Oobilong jumped in horror and fright. Grima grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and began to drag him out of the tower.

* * *

*Again, look at 'Escalator of Orthanc' to understand this reference.


	3. Jump

_Sorry that this one is a little shorter. I just thought that where I stopped was a good ending point for the chapter. Hopefully more will come soon. _

* * *

Oobilong was by no means happy at the new turn of events. It is not at all pleasant to be dragged away with the ominous word 'Discard' ringing in your ears and echoing through your thoughts. So Oobilong did what Orcs do when disturbed. He squealed.

'Shut up,' said Grima, kicking him. 'What's your problem?'

'What's my problem?' squealed the little Orc. 'I'm going to be discarded! Thrown away!' He grabbed Gima around the knees and looked up at him with tears in his eyes. 'Please, don't hurt me,' he sniffled.

Grima knew what it was like to be cast out. He understood how the little Orc whose name he didn't know must feel. And Grima was really rather soft-hearted underneath all that rough, ugly, sour exterior. But he knew what would happen if Saruman discovered he had disobeyed him.

Wormtongue's thoughts flew to the time when he had accidentally dropped candle wax into one of Saruman's experiments. When Saruman had found a lump of unidentifiable something in his potion he had been quite excited.

'Grima!' he yelled exultantly, 'look! At last my years of being a genius are paying off!' He held the experiment aloft.

'Oh, um,' said Grima uncomfortably. He had had to explain his mistake, and it wasn't easy. It was even harder to endure the punishment for his mistake, but I shan't go into that, as it would require me to change the rating on this story to M.

Wormtongue looked down again at the little Orc. He couldn't just let him be thrown away…

'Listen,' he said, looking around to make sure no one was (except Oobilong, of course), 'You will have to be discarded. Saruman's orders are not to be ignored. But there is still hope for you. Follow me.'

Oobilong was not relieved yet. In fact, he was rather suspicious. Wormtongue was acting furtive and sneaky, and at every noise he jumped three feet in the air. But Oobilong followed him, deciding that there was nothing to lose.

Grima led him down into a hole. It was hot, and the orange glow of flames danced on the walls. It was also noisy; Orcs all around him were hammering weapons, building an arsenal for Saruman's army. Grima led him past all this into another cave. Orcs were all over in here, too, but there were no hammers and anvils. There was a large pit of mud. Oobilong looked at it with interest. But what Grima said next nearly frightened him out of his skin.

'Jump in,' he said.

Oobilong didn't want to. Mud is all very well, when you are hot and the mud is cold, or when the midges are bothering you, or when you don't want to be found by the nasty fat Uruk that lives down the street; but a pit of mud that goes who-knows-how deep down and is full of things that wiggle- well, that's a different thing entirely.

'Go on, jump in,' said Grima impatiently. He could understand the Orc's hesitation; he wouldn't have wanted to, either. But there was no other hope for the little Snaga, so he had to insist. 'Listen,' he said, crouching down to be at eye-level with Oobilong, 'This is your only chance. It won't be pleasant, and it may be scary, but you have to do it if you want to survive.'

'What is it?' asked Oobilong timidly.

'It's a breeding ground. This is where little Orcs turn into big Uruk-Hai.' At this Oobilong's ears pricked up. 'You'll be down there for about three weeks, and then out you'll pop, a brand-new Uruk-Hai for Saruman's army.' He saw Oobilong's interest increasing. 'Pretty cool, huh?' he said, smiling as the little Snaga's eyes widened.

'All right,' said Oobilong. 'I'll jump in.' He still wasn't very happy about it. Stuck in a glob of mud for three stinkin' weeks? But above all else he wanted to be an Uruk-Hai. If only it worked, if only he could be a full-grown, powerful Uruk-Hai, it would make up for all the pain and all the fear he must go through. He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

Grima watched him sink down into the pit. He shook his head slowly. 'I hope it works,' he thought. 'The poor little guy.' Then he left to report to Saruman the condition of the forest of Fangorn.


	4. Introducing Galumph

Oobilong never afterwards remembered what it was like in the mud. He could only recall darkness; sometimes a red glow seemed to penetrate the mud a little, but other than that all was black. He thought he could hear voices sometimes; screams and squeals, and perhaps some of them were his own. He did not know. But he could never be sure if it all was a memory of what really happened, or a dream he dreamed while in the mud.

When Oobilong awoke, he found himself staring at an Orc who held him by his ear. The Orc examined him, frowning.

'What's this?' he said. 'A puny mutant?'

'What is this commotion about?' aske Saruman, approaching from where he had been examining another Orc. His hair was rather disheveled, and he looked a little worried. That day had not been his best, and he felt tired and stressed. So he wasn't at all happy to see an Orc, freshly pulled from the mud, with no Uruk-Hai-ness at all. There was nothing; not a single change. The Orc was unmistakably a Snaga, and it stood there very still, looking as if it had no idea what was going on at all.

'A mistake, sir,' said the Orc who held Oobilong by the ear. 'We found 'im in the mud.'

'I don't make mistakes,' said Saruman, suddenly growing taller and turning dark and menacing. 'Everything always turns out exactly as I plan it to.' He shrunk down to normal size again. 'Unfortunately, I sometimes plan for the wrong things.' He bent down and looked at the Orc.

Oobilong looked at him expectantly. Surely the Wizard would recognize him. He had examined him countless times before. But Saruman didn't seem to think he was any different from any other Orc. Oobilong's face fell as Saruman straightened back up and said,

'Take him to the tower. I'd like to study him and find what part of him resisted the transformation.'

Grima Wormtongue appeared from behind the Wizard and grabbed Oobilong roughly by the ear, dragging him towards Orthanc.

'Grima!' Oobilong squealed, half excited to see his old friend again, and half angry at him for the mud not working.

'Hush,' Grima hissed, 'wait!' They entered the tower and Wormtongue took the Orc back to the experimentation room. Then he sat down next to him. 'I'm sorry,' he said in a low voice. 'I'm so sorry.'

Oobilong saw the genuine pity in the man's face. He looked down. 'Grima,' he whispered, 'what now?'

'I don't know,' said Wormtongue, shaking his head slowly. 'I guess he'll run you through The Tests.'

'The Tests?' Oobilong repeated. 'What in Mordor or out of it are those?'

'He'll do things to you,' Grima explained, 'to see what makes you different from most Orcs.'

'Things?' asked Oobilong nervously.

'Yes, for instance, take blood samples, make you take Mezerhaidinate, observe your reactions to pain, etc.'

'No!' the Orc gasped. 'Grima, don't let him do this to me!' His eyes filled with tears.

Grima looked at him thoughtfully. He really did owe the little blighter a debt; after all, he had made him jump in the mud, and it hadn't even worked. He had gotten him into this mess; he should get him out.

Wormtongue was aware that the situation wasn't exactly his fault, but he decided to help the little Orc anyway. Perhaps he felt guilty and wanted to do something good for once, or maybe he had really started liking Oobilong. Whatever it was, he resolved to save him.

'Right,' he said. 'Follow me.' He lead Oobilong back down the steps of Orthanc and out into the sunlight. Oobilong padded behind him, looking around at the trees. When he had gotten to Orthanc, they had been bare; now they were covered in thick foliage. He estimated that he had been in the mud for about three months, but he wasn't sure.

Oobilong and Wormtongue left Isengard through a grate in the wall surrounding the tower. One they went, following an overgrown path until they came to a cave in the side of the mountain. In it was an Uruk-Hai.

'Who's this?' asked the hulking Orc.

'I don't know,' answered Grima, a confused look on his face. 'What's your name, Orc scum?'

'Oobilong,' answered that personage shyly. Then he added, as an afterthought, 'but you can call me Oober.'

'Bobbleheads,' said the Uruk-Hai, 'big strong orcs don't shorten their names.'

'Oober, this is Galumph,' said Grima, glaring at the Uruk-Hai. 'He'll take you into his division.'

'I will?' sneered the Orc. 'What makes you think we can use a sniveling Snaga?'

'Because if you can't, Saruman might just find out that you're still alive,' Grima said threateningly. 'Now move it, Galumph, or do I have to take you back with me?'

Galumph scowled. 'Wormtongue, if we ever meet in the wild, there will be one of my arrows through your gullet before you've got time to blink,' he growled. 'Come on, then, move it, Snaga.'

'Wait,' said Oobilong. He went up to Wormtongue and held out his hand. 'Goodbye, master Grima,' he said timidly.

Grima looked down at the extended hand for a long time without taking it. He had never been offered a hand to shake before. No one wanted to get that close to him. He looked at Oober to see if he really meant it.

'Goodbye,' he said, finally taking the hand and giving it a firm shake. 'And good luck,' he added, watching Oobilong follow Galumph farther into the cave. He sighed, and headed back towards Isengard, where some sort of involved punishment probably awaited him. But somehow he didn't regret his action.

Oober followed Galumph to a larger open space in the cave. In the middle of it was a pile of sticks, over which was hanging a pot with a ladle in it. He suddenly felt very hungry, and remembered he hadn't eaten since he jumped into the mud.

'Take some food,' said Galumph, unceremoniously tossing him a bowl. Oobilong did quickly, and started ingesting it with a rapidity that would have put a Balrog to shame. Once he was less hungry, and had time to talk between mouthfuls, he began to ask questions.

'Why does Saruman want you dead?' he asked. 'Why are you hiding out in a cave?'

'I'm not hiding out,' Galumph snarled. 'This is where I live.' He paused, as if not sure whether he should tell Oobilong about himself.

'I'm part of your "division" now,' said Oobilong. 'You should tell me.'

Galumph sighed. 'It's because I disobeyed him, of course,' he said. 'He told me to go to Mirkwood and cause trouble at the borders, but I didn't.'

'Why not?' asked Oobilong. The thought that the Orc might not want to die at the hands of Elves did not even occur to him. Orcs don't fear death. It is one of their strengths.

'Because,' said Galumph, hesitating. Finally he blurted out, 'it's because I'm afraid of mud.' He looked at the Snaga to see his response. 'There was a bog, and I didn't want to go across, so...'

Oobilong was puzzled. 'Why are you afraid of mud?' he asked. The Uruk-Hai would have gotten angry at the question, but he saw that Oobilong wasn't laughing at him, but was genuinely curious. He sighed again.

'I was turned into an Uruk-Hai,' he said, gesturing at himself. 'I had to go into the Fancy Mud.'

Oober now began to understand. Having been in what Galumph called 'the Fancy Mud' himself, he understood why someone could be afraid of it. Even afraid of it enough to disobey the explicit command of the great and terrible Wizard of Orthanc. 'I see,' he said slowly.

Galumph looked at Oober curiously. The little Snaga hadn't laughed at him.

'I think I like you,' he said suddenly. Oober dropped his bowl. 'Welcome to my division,' said Galumph, smiling and thumping him on the back.

* * *

_Yeah, sorry it's taken me so long to get this next chapter up. Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! :D :D _


	5. The Rest of Us

'It's time for you to meet the rest of us,' said Galumph.

'Wait, the rest of you?' asked Oober in surprise.

'Yes,' said Galumph. 'I'll bring them.' He disappeared out the mouth of the cave.

Oober was surprised, but not displeased at this new development. He had thought that it would just be him and Galumph; but the thought of more did not bother him very much. Perhaps they'd be nice, like Galumph. Or Wormtongue…

He didn't have long to cogitate on this, though, for Galumph returned in a moment with several companions.

It was an odd assortment, really, and would have been rather disturbing for most people. But Oobilong, you will remember, had seen a lot in his lifetime, and was used to disturbing things.

There was a spider. That was the first thing he noticed. It was hard not to, for it was very large, and very scary. It was about twice his height. Then there was a strange, green, translucent man. He bore a sword. There was also another man, dressed in red and gold with a black scarf wrapped around his neck. Oobilong recognized him as a Haradrim, one of the men from Harad who served the dark Lord. A warg also made an appearance, and a barrow wight. There were also two more Uruks. And all of them were bigger than Oober.

'This is my division,' said Galumph proudly, standing in front of them with his hands on his hips.

'H-hello,' said Oober, shyly looking down at his toes.

'Division, this is Oobilong. He's one of us now,' Galumph continued.

There was a silence.

'But it's nothing but a Snaga,' observed the barrow wight. He was promptly thunked on the head by the translucent green man.

'Shut up,' he said.

The spider stepped forward. Oobilong resisted the urge to back away. 'Hello,' it said. 'I'm Facetwerp.'

Oobilong's eyebrows went up inspite of himself.

'It's a strange name, I know,' said the spider. 'But it's what I've always been called.'

'Give a bit of your background history,' commanded Galumph.

'Why?'

'Because. He's one of us. He needs to know who we are.'

'Oh, all right,' humphed Facetwerp. 'When I was little I was captured by elves in Mirkwood. I was saved, though, by a Nazgul. Then I decided to disobey him. So I kind of had to run away.'

'Oh,' said Oobilong. 'What did you do?'

'I refused to go to Mordor,' she said, shrugging.

'These are Healunk and Dipmuck,' said Galumph, motioning towards the other Uruks. 'They come from Mordor.'

'We pranked the Witch-King,' said Headlunk, 'so we got chased out.'

Oober gulped. He said that as if it was nothing to prank the Witch-King.

'I'm Ksamkiru,' said the Haradrim, stepping forward and holding out his hand. 'I come from Harad.'

'What did you do bad?' asked Oobilong.

'I didn't do anything bad,' said the Haradrim, looking rather offended. 'That's why they wanted to kill me.'

'Letztat,' said the warg. 'How do you do?'

'Well. Good. I mean,' stuttered Oobilong. It would take him a while to get used to these people. And creatures.

'Letztat is allergic to goblins,' the barrow wight volunteered. Ksamkiru thunked him on the head.

'Silence!' bellowed the green man. 'Hello, Oobilong,' he said, turning to him and speaking in an altogether different voice. 'I'm Galoadith, and I'm from Gondor. My long and involved background is this: a long time ago I didn't...'

'Skip to the important part,' snapped Letztat.

'Oh, all right,' said Galoadith reluctantly. 'I was cursed. Then I ran away because I didn't like being cursed. So now I'm always dead.'

'Dead?' asked Oobilong dubiously.

'Yup.'

'I'm Gling,' said the barrow wight.

'Nobody asked you!' said Dipmuck, bonking him on the head.

'He's got issues,' explained Facetwerp. 'He's the only one of us, other than Yerakor, who was kicked out rather than running away.'

'Who is Yerakor?' asked Oober.

'He's another Uruk-hai. You'll like him,' said Ksamkiru. 'Right now he's hunting.'

'So what is your story?' asked Facetwerp curiously.

'I come from Mordor-' began Oober.

'Oh?' said Dipmuck.

'Is it very different?' asked Headlunk.

'From what?'

'From what it was.'

'I don't know.'

'Oh.'

'Stop interrupting,' said Galumph. 'I want to hear what he has to say.'

'I was sent to Isengard,' continued Oober timidly. 'Saruman experimented on me. It didn't work. So he wanted to kill me. Wormtongue told me to jump in the mud. I did. I was there a long time. I came out, but I wasn't any different. So he wanted Wormtongue to kill me. Wormtongue saved me instead.'

The cave was silent for a moment. Galumph had a horrified look on his face. So did the rest of the division who had faces.

'That's horrible!' said Facetwerp, choking. 'You poor thing.' She sounded as if she might cry.

'In the mud?' cried Galumph, recovering his ability to speak. 'You too?'

'Oh, dear,' said Galaodith.

There was a moment of sympathetic silence again.

It was interrupted by the entrance of an Orc. It was an Uruk-hai. He had a white hand on his face, but it had almost worn completely off. He was carrying some sort of animal over his shoulders, and he plopped it down on the floor.

'Hello, everyone,' he said, straightening up.

'Bieg!' screeched Oobilong. He gulped. 'Bieg, is it you?'

'Oobilong?' asked Bieg, his eyes widening. Oobilong squealed.

'I thought you were dead!' he said. He didn't cry. Not in front of the others.

'I thought you were dead!' Bieg said. They stood and looked at each other for a moment.

'Filthy maggot,' said Bieg, walking up and pushing him.

'Yourself,' said Oobilong, pushing him back. He bit his lip. 'Take that.' He stomped on his foot. 'I missed you.'

'Me too,' said Bieg.

'You know each other?' asked Gling.

'Um, I think that's rather obvious,' said Galaodith, thomping him on the head. 'Whether they're friends or not is harder to discern.'

'We were in the war together,' said Bieg. 'Of course we like each other! What makes you think we don't?'

'I thought he died,' said Oober.

'I thought I did, too, for a while,' said Bieg. 'Oober, here I'm known as Yerakor.'

'All right,' said Oobilong. 'Why did you change your name?'

'I didn't. Saruman did when I became an Uruk-hai.'

'Oh.'

'Nazgul!' screamed Gling. 'Nazgul coming in!'

'Curses!' yelled Galumph. 'All the way out here? Stay away from the entrance everyone!'

* * *

:D Finally the next chapter. Please review!


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